The Unlocked (Charlie Hartley Series Book 1)

by Stonebridge, J. D.

  Sarah asked him if they should even tell Charlie the truth. “I haven’t thought about that in a while. Why do you ask?”

  “Nothing in particular. I always wondered if she would sense it. She’s never asked.”

  “Remember when she first exhibited her power a couple of weeks after we got her?” Carl began. “She was in her crib reaching for the milk bottle by her feet. I saw her motion the bottle to come to her. And roll it did! Oh my God, it scared me to death!”

  Sarah smiled at the memory. “Yes, it’s still so fresh in my mind. When the bottle reached her hand, she just broke into a big angelic smile, looked at you and called you Dada for the first time.” Sarah went on. “Her rattle moved towards her, remember? She was in her playpen, holding on to its sides and walking around it. Then she pointed to the rattle that was on the high chair. Would have been nice if we had phone videos then. I bet people would still be amazed seeing a baby point to a rattle that jumps off the high chair, lands on the floor, and rolls toward the playpen.”

  Carl acknowledged and added, “And what about the time we found Charlie giggling in her high chair, making her plastic spoon dance by twirling her index finger above it?” Sarah eagerly finished the story. “Yes, I was so awed by that, but when Charlie realized I was staring at her, she burst into a fit and threw the spoon at me.” The two laughed in glee at recounting those special moments.

  Both agreed Charlie’s arrival in their life was the best thing that ever happened to them. Sarah reminisced how she used to be unfamiliar with cooking. But when Charlie arrived, she became the mother who loved to experiment with recipes to satisfy her daughter’s tummy. “I think I’ll try something new for tomorrow’s dinner,” she whispered to Carl.

  On most nights, the family would spend their evenings getting together for dinner with Sarah doing most of the cooking. To her surprise, cooking became a passion, and like a mad scientist with pans instead of beakers, she enjoyed trying out new dishes with Carl and Charlie as her eager guinea pigs.

  Carl and Charlie then cleaned up the dishes; with Sarah’s supervision, of course. Often, the family would spend their evenings after dinner watching a movie or playing cards. Other nights, they would each go their own way to enjoy solitude.

  Tonight, though, was their traditional family baseball night. The Hartleys sat around their 52-inch flat screen to watch the Boston Red Sox play against the Toronto Blue Jays. Over Sarah’s mouthwatering Philly Cheese Steaks, they watched the Blue Jays fall behind 7-0 in the second inning.

  “Lester jammed his right hip,” reported Carl as Sarah came back from the kitchen with her slices of strawberry cheesecake.

  “Tazawa is a good player too,” commented Sarah upon learning he’d replaced the injured player.

  “Mmmm… this is so yummy, Mom,” Charlie said in between mouthfuls, her eyes not leaving the screen.

  The Red Sox jumped all over Chien-Ming Wang, tagging him for seven runs. As expected, the Red Sox won 7-4. The Hartleys cheered together, elated that their favorite team had won after having lost twice to the Detroit Tigers.

  After saying good night to her parents, Charlie lay in bed, looking at the shadows the full moon made on her floor. Although she wouldn’t leave for college for quite some time, the worries already gnawed at her mind.

  I’ll surely miss Mom and Dad in the fall. Living in a dorm won’t be like home at all. Charlie winced at the thought of arguing with her college roommate on whose turn it was to clean the bathroom or vacuum the carpet. I wonder what it’s like to be at Harvard. I imagine the pressure to excel will be intense. Will there be enough time to forge friendships and socialize? Will it be even half the fun high school afforded me? Charlie tossed and turned, feeling pangs of nostalgia about leaving home, her friends, Foran High School, and Milford.

  Writing was always close to Charlie’s heart. She dabbled in poetry as a child and contributed feature articles in the school paper. She had a good share of subscribers on her online blog and had won a number of online essay and vignette writing contests. Becoming a journalist was something else, though. Will I be a Barbara Walters, a Kate Couric or a Gloria Steinem? It sure would be cool to be an investigative journalist like Eileen Welsome and win the Pulitzer Prize for reporting on human radiation experiments done on people during the Cold War. She imagined her life as it could be, smiling.

  Her thoughts strayed to high school. She recalled the Halloween when she and Liz transformed the Hartley basement into a horror room for the Gang of Five. The memory brought a smile to her face and a twinkle in her eyes. They’d absolutely had no idea what they were in for. The two girls created a scary haunted house, causing Missy to freak out when her blindfold was taken off and she was confronted by a cold metal casket that was the Hartley’s old freezer with a half-bodied mannequin corpse sporting a stitched cheek and garbed in a ketchup-stained dress.

  Charlie’s thoughts drifted further to the bats and roaches scurrying all around the room, chasing the girls. Joan panicked and went into hysterics when a bat kept landing on her nape. Ginger’s paranoia escalated after her encounter with the roach that repeatedly ran up and down her legs. Joan, Missy, and Ginger berated them for planting live creatures, but what Charlie didn’t admit was that she was the prankster behind the silicon toys that petrified Joan and Ginger, secretly using her powers for fun at their expense.

  These wonderful memories stayed with Charlie as she slipped into sleep. Her dreams were of screams, laughter, and bats.

  She awoke the next day still filled with the adrenaline rush from the previous night’s victory of her beloved Red Sox. Charlie decided to take on a physical activity in the morning and took her bicycle for a ride.

  She pedaled her way to Audubon Center to follow the twelve-mile trail, pedaling the flat and hilly terrain with vigor. The center has over five hundred acres of woodlands and meadows, and exploring nature in abundance was a treat for her. Today, the scenery was breathtaking, bikers were few, and the weather was perfect. Charlie biked for over an hour, exhilarated and invigorated.

  She stopped in a secluded and shaded spot where the stream ran. Kicking off her shoes and dipping her feet in the water, Charlie took pleasure at the fluid’s movement between her toes. A nearby old red oak with a large trunk served as a convenient back rest. “This is the life,” Charlie told herself. She made a mental note to remind her there was an abundance of free things in life much more rewarding than any expensive gadget young people her age seemed to prefer. She took out her book and chewed on an apple as she temporarily lost herself in John Grisham’s Pelican Brief.

  Screams jerked Charlie out of the lawyer’s world. She looked up to find two young boys, no older than ten, pedaling their bikes. They were speeding downhill along the bike path when one of them lost his brakes and careened toward Charlie.

  “Look out!” shouted the other boy who got off his bike and chased his friend’s bike in a foolish attempt to stop him. The boy on wheels, who appeared more confused than frightened, screamed at the top of his lungs as he headed straight at Charlie and the red oak. Charlie acted more on impulse than anything else when she raised her hand. As she did, the bike ground to a halt. The boy’s body flew over the handle bars and into the shallow stream.

  “Are you alright?” Charlie asked as she waded into the water. The boy let Charlie pull him up as his friend caught up with them. She checked the visibly shaken kid for any injury, and after finding only a couple of scratches, let him walk to his friend.

  “How did you stop like you did, Marvin?” his friend inquired.

  “I don’t know,” Marvin admitted. “I lost my brakes and I just sped towards the lady and the tree. I shut my eyes, expecting to hit the tree. Then I landed in the water.”

  The friend looked at Charlie, who shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I guess Marvin is one lucky guy, Jason. Now go home and get your bike fixed. And remember not to race downhill ever again.”

  They thanked Charlie and walked away with their bikes, still
mystified how Marvin escaped a near-death experience, which is exactly how they would retell the story later.

  During the bike ride home, Charlie relished the feeling of being able to help someone. She thought, “I don’t know how I did that. I believe when I raised my hands, it was unconsciously. Can’t wait to tell Mom and Dad their daughter just saved a kid.”

  Charlie quietly tiptoed up the stairs, noting her parents’ bedroom door was ajar and assuming they were napping. But as she passed, she overheard them talking. She paused and eavesdropped.

  Carl spoke softly. “I met this psychologist from Hartford. He recently moved to the state from California and seems to know a lot about telekinesis. He’s taken a keen interest in the study of advanced capabilities of the mind such as telekinesis and telepathy, or as he called it, psi phenomenon, for quite some time. Do you think he could help Charlie?”

  Sarah was concerned about Charlie’s powers being exposed. “We don’t want to place Charlie in a position that might embarrass her. I am worried about her but her safety is more important.”

  Charlie was upset about being discussed like she was sick or weird. She couldn’t contain herself or wait for a more suitable time. She walked right in without knocking.

  “Dad, Mom, I’m sorry I overheard you two talking about me. I thought we agreed to let this go. You know I feel like some kind of freak the way you discuss me. Really, is what I have so horrible? Maybe you should instead think about why I’m like this in the first place. Does it even run in the family or am I the only one cursed with powers that don’t even work every time?”

  Carl and Sarah were caught off-guard when Charlie’s outburst.

  “Charlie, please don’t be offended. We want the best for you and you know that. We’re just concerned that things may get out of hand, especially when you go to college and we won’t be near to support or protect you,” Sarah explained.

  Carl interjected, “You’re mom is right, Princess. I met this psychologist at poker yesterday. Bob introduced him to the group and the conversation shifted from card reading to telekinesis. It sparked an interesting and lengthy conversation among us; I thought I would share the information with you and your mom.”

  Charlie was clearly upset. She knew her parents meant well but it did not stop her from being irritated. “What if he says I have an illness that triggers this power and he wants to study me? Will you let me be his guinea pig?”

  Sarah looks astounded, “Of course not, Princess. That was never the intention.”

  Carl added, “I just thought maybe a more educated person would help us understand better what’s going on with you.”

  “Well, I’m sorry. This is just too much for me. I wish I were born normal like you. But I don’t want to talk to any stranger and answer his questions because he sees me as a live specimen to test his theories on. Excuse me.” Charlie turned around quickly and went to her room. She locked the door and isolated herself for the rest of the afternoon.

  After watching her daughter walk out angrily, Sarah said, “I’m sorry, Hun,” she said, “I shouldn’t have pushed you to find answers elsewhere.”

  Carl reached for Sarah’s hand and held it. “It’s not your fault. Charlie is a sensible kid. She always had been. Just give her time.”

  “I hope so. Well, I’ll make us some Baby Back Ribs for dinner and keep my fingers crossed.” She announced, hoping Charlie would cheer up after they gathered around the dining table. Sarah sighed as she walked to the kitchen.

  As was usually the case, the dinner came out as delicious and after the fulfilling meal. Charlie did bounce back, as she always did. Theirs was such a close-knit family that minor conflicts were easily resolved over Sarah’s culinary skills.

  “Thanks for making my favorite dish, Mom.” A smiling Charlie hugged Sarah. Carl flashed a thumbs-up sign to his wife. All was well in the Hartley household.

  The next morning, Charlie jumped into the shower as soon as she got up. “Nothing wakes me up the way cold water does,” she thought. She lathered her washcloth and started rubbing her left forearm. When she shifted to her right arm, she let out a shriek, “What in heaven’s name is this?”

  On her right forearm was a three-inch gash. The laceration looked like it had already begun to heal and therefore wasn’t something she’d sustained while in the shower. Examining it more closely, it seemed like the incision was caused by a shard of glass, deep enough to leave a scar but not enough to require stitching.

  After her shower, Charlie dressed and went straight to Sarah, who was mixing a fresh batch of no-bake oat bars. “Hey Mom, take a look at my forearm,” Charlie raised her right arm for Sarah to see. “I’m sure I didn’t have this yesterday or last night when I bathed… Thoughts?”

  Sarah took a closer look. “Hmmm…that’s strange. Could you have walked in your sleep last night and hurt yourself?”

  Charlie raised her brow and pouted. “Mom, what do you mean?”

  But Sarah was already on the phone leaving a message for Dr. Wipperman to see if he could drop by the house on his way home.

  That afternoon, the doorbell rang and Sarah got up to welcome their long time family doctor. “Thanks for taking the time, Ray.”

  The balding gentleman brushed her off. “No problem, Sarah. Where’s good old Charlie?”

  “Hi Doc!” Charlie’s face lit up when she saw the affable doctor. She’d known him since she could remember, and, save for her special power, he knew every major illness she’d had, including a badly bruised thigh from a bike fall when she was seven.

  “Charlie doesn’t even flinch when I apply pressure on it, though a gash like this should still sting.” Doc Wipperman advised her to apply the usual antibacterial cream and allow nature to heal it.

  “Now, it’s time for the old man’s treat. The real reason I’m here is for your mom’s yummy oat bars.” The three of them laughed and sat down to partake of Sarah’s special health bars.

  Charlie enjoyed the rest of the day, although still concerned about the strange injury that had suddenly appeared.

  Could it have a connection with the dreams I've been having? Charlie thought. She looked back at the string of strange images she’d had since she was young, where she would see herself in unfamiliar places. By late afternoon, Charlie found herself researching recurring dreams. Most articles she found suggested that dreaming about another self was a sign of an identity crisis, which confused the young girl. She tossed and turned in bed that evening, trying to understand what her dreams meant. When sleep finally reached her, she found herself in the same room she had been dreaming about.

  In the dream, Charlie was in a Spartan room where everything was immaculate white, from sheets to blinds, from bed to table, from ceiling to floor. She felt anxious about a knock on the door she knew would come, but the dream always ended before she opened it.

  This time though, the dream had a strange twist added to it. Charlie responded to someone knocking on the door, only to be shocked out of her wits to find the person knocking was herself.

  After an hour of tossing and turning, sleep playing an elusive game, Charlie got up and hit the shower. She was downstairs by five thirty.

  By the time Carl and Sarah came down at six, a breakfast of crisp bacon strips, scrambled eggs, yogurt, apple slices and buttered toast were neatly laid out on their plates. Brewed coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice completed Chef Charlie’s preparation.

  Carl was ecstatic. “Breakfast deluxe courtesy of our Princess!”

  Sarah was more suspicious and asked, “Why are you up earlier than usual, Charlene Hartley?”

  Charlie minced no words, “Mom, Dad, you won’t believe this! It’s the weirdest dream I’ve ever had and the odd part is that everything is crystal clear in my memory, like it actually happened. When I woke up, the faint scent of antiseptic still lingered in my nostrils.”

  Sarah listened intently to her daughter as she recounted the dream. Her attention was especially caught by the fact that C
harlie saw herself when she opened the door. “What a dream, I must admit.”

  Sarah looked at her husband, waiting for his opinion. “That’s an interesting nocturnal encounter. But I wouldn’t give it a second thought though. Charlie, you’ve been stressed with a number of things related to your powers these past days. You really need a break.”

  Carl buried his face in the morning paper, but the concerned look did not escape Sarah.

  When Charlie went upstairs, Sarah took the chance. “What’s the matter, Hon?”

  Carl smiled but said nothing. In the back of his mind, the image of two car seats jumped at him. “I would have seen the other child if it had been there,” he reminded himself for the thousandth time.

  CHAPTER 2: Saving Hilary

  Waiting patiently wasn’t Charlie’s virtue. She was a stickler for time and got jumpy when people showed up late. So when her parents arrived an hour late for dinner, they already knew their daughter would rush them, chattering more quickly than usual as if trying to catch up on lost time, rubbing her chin with her right hand while engaging them in conversation. Carl thought Charlie a bit odd this evening, but he was a wise man not to say anything.

  After dinner, Charlie put some popcorn in the microwave and they all went to the family room where Carl watched the Philadelphia Phillies play against the Detroit Dodgers. At the fifth inning, in between mouthfuls of popcorn, Carl handed his daughter an envelope. “Hey, Princess, guess what we got for your eighteenth birthday.”

  The envelope yielded three tickets to the Red Sox/Yankee game in Boston. “Aww, Dad, this is so cool! I’ve never been to a live game ever!”

  Carl was pleased with the expression on his daughter’s face. “Your mom and I figured it would give us an excuse to take you to Boston so we could visit Harvard before school starts.”

  Sarah gleefully added, “We saved enough for a couple of nights’ stay at the Fenway Park Hotel as well. “